


What Happens in Vegas

by dancinbutterfly



Category: Entourage
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1634000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Season 5 finale, Eric and Vince are still struggling with each other. Johnny Drama thinks he's got the solution - Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Abi, Sara, Roxy, Kaci, and Pathos. You guys kept me sane!  
> Tbhi
> 
> Written for GatorGrrrl

 

 

_Eric: Go find someone better `cause I can live with myself knowing I busted my ass and I gave everything I had to you._  
Vince: Yeah I know you did E. But it wasn't enough.  
Eric: Yeah fuck you.  
~Episode 5.12 - Return to Queens Boulvard

Johnny Drama loves Vegas. He's willing to blank out the whole Ken incident because he's a firm believer that the hum of the casinos and the glow of florescent lights on exposed female skin are a cure all. 

And they need it. They've need needed it for awhile but no one's fucking listening.

He's got plans, nothing as extravagant as what Turtle would've pulled together but it's a nice set up. Problem is at the moment it looks like he's going to be going alone. Turtle, un-fucking-believably, is off in Miami with Jamie-Lynne. Johnny doesn't know if he's more surprised that he's actually fucking her or that they're starting to look serious - to the point where Turtle is talking about moving out. 

Vince hasn't said yes yet either. Baby Bro's caught up in Gatsby. Scorsese isn't playing around with this one and neither is Vince. But it's been almost two months and he's read the book more times than most lit professors. At least Johnny thinks so. He doesn't really know for sure - he doesn't know any lit professors. 

So he wants to stay home and read it for the seven thousandth time and E's no fucking help. Big fucking surprise there.

They're still not right. They haven't been right since fucking Medellin but he thought after Hawaii they were getting better. Only they're not because Vince doesn't know what the hell he's doing or what he's got, and he never has.

Which is fucking stupid because after Joshua Tree, even Turtle knows. Drama's suspected since QB but he's known for sure since Mexico and fuck. Everyone knows except his bro and for a guy with such a pretty head, he doesn't have much in it if he can't see. 

Vince fucked up but good with the whole thing in Queens. Johnny doesn't know what was said but he knows that it sent E across the fucking country to get away from him. 

Vince doesn't like change. Too much of it as a kid got him scared of it, Johnny remembers. But he can deal with it - just where E's concerned he doesn't want to. 

It's fucking stupid because he's nearly lost E like three times now. That's all you get in this life, and that's only if you're incredibly lucky - three strikes. He doesn't think E'll come back next time, if he stays now. He doesn't think Vince does either. Not without some kind of miracle. 

"You both need a break," Johnny says. They're on separate sides of the room. The space between them nowadays is wider than the Grand fucking Canyon. In some ways its worse than when Vince was in Mexico because they're right here and still this far apart.

"Some of us have real jobs, Drama," E snaps. "We cant just run off to Vegas whenever we feel like."

Drama bites back that being a manager isn't a real fucking job. It's his impulse reaction but he's not stupid and there's no way a comment like that will help the situation.

"Look, it's on me. The show's promoting there anyway, we've got luxury suites at the Bellagio, and I'm gonna see if Jamie'll let Turtle out for good behavior and it'll be like old times. So both of you need to pull your heads out of your asses and come to Vegas. "

"I think being with Jamie is the reward for good behavior," Vince points out and it takes all of Johnny `s considerable acting talent not to sigh. 

"So you're reconsidering?"

Vince laughs and smiles at him. But his smile is kind of sad which it shouldn't be. He's the star of the next Martin Scorsese picture, the first since his Oscar for the Departed. He's on the upswing, he goes back to work in less than a month and people are starting to care about what he does. Johnny would give his left nut for that sort opportunity. 

"Maybe." But what he really means is yes and that's yet another one down in the Drama Win Column. 

"You gotta come, E."

Eric says nothing. He's working on his PDA. His writers are not happy about the Smoke Jumpers thing and the fact that they still got their money(half of it anyway) has done nothing to calm them down since Werner walked.

"E," Vince tries, "Come on. It'll be fun."

"I can't."

"Liar," Vince shoots back. "You can. Look if you don't want to go then-"

"I don't, now that you mention it."

"Why? You love Vegas."

"No, Vince, **you** love Vegas."

"Then consider it a favor to me," Johnny cuts in, hoping to end the fight before it can get really rolling. "A big one."

E stares at the two of them for a long time. Johnny thinks he might be weighing the pros and cons of calling Ma on them. Then he nods. "No strip contests."

"On my mother's life."

E nods again then gets up and leaves the living room. Vince watches him go until the door closes behind him then turns and gives Johnny another unintentionally sad smile.

"Vegas, baby bro, Vegas," Johnny says dropping onto the couch and fishing in the remote in the cushions. He has a system for remote placement but none of the guys will stick to it. 

"I know Johnny."

"Anything can happen. Just you wait." 

Vince shrugs and tosses him the remote he was looking for. Johnny clicks through to Showtime and Aquaman's on. They watch it in silence and pretend not to notice when Eric leaves the condo.

~*~*~

"So, what's up with Vince and Eric?"

That question comes up with every girl who's ever hung around the group for more than a week. And for some reason, they all come to Turtle to ask it. He thinks it has something to do with him seeming approachable or some shit. 

Usually he hems and haws and explains that since they were five its been E and Vin against the world and that's just how it is. He downplays how tight they are so that the girl Vince is fucking or E is dating doesn't get scared off.

But this time is different. This time, its Jamie asking and she's doing so from on top of him in a messy hotel in Las Vegas. Her hands are folded on his chest making a resting place for her chin and he `s free to run his hands up and down her bare back and shoulders as he thinks about how to answer that. 

"What do you want to know?"

"I kind of want to know if they know how..." she trails off, looking for the right way to put it. She doesn't want to upset him but she's not going to pull her punches either and that's hot. "How they look. Together I mean. Not now," she adds because when they met up for dinner last night Vince and E had seemed strained and distant. But he knows what she means."But still. They look like they're something."

"I don't think they're fuckin'." Turtle says and thank god for that. He doesn't really want to think about that when he's got his girlfriend naked and covering him like a blanket. "But they're just Vince and E, you know? It's always been the two of them. They're my best friends but I don't have someone the way they've got each other. My own Ma doesn't care about me as much as Vince cares about E."

"Really?"

"Yeah. First two years we were out here, Vince called E almost every night trying to convince him to move out West. He got his first real big audition after he knew E was coming." Turtle personally thinks that Vince was stopping himself before then. He's got a lot of theories since Joshua Tree but he doesn't dwell on them or try to think about them if he can avoid it. 

She nods and is silent for awhile. Her cheek rests on his chest and he strokes her hair and thinks that she's the most amazing girl he's ever met in his life. He thinks that if they're not careful, he's going to fall full-fucking-force in love with her. 

"They seem really unhappy."

"Yeah. That's why we're here. Drama's got this grand plan coming to Vegas'll fix their shit. We're supposed to cheer `em up. "

Jamie lifts her head and gives him a dirty smile. "Well, sorry, I'm not sharing. They'll have to find another way to make themselves happy."

He pinches her side and she squeaks dramatically before kissing him. He can't make love to her again yet but Jesus fuck she feels so good and he can make her come at least one more time before they have to go down and meet up with the guys, no problem. 

"I think they want to." Jamie says later, after he's brought her off, twice, and they've showered and are getting dressed. She looks amazing in street clothes but she's in a short dress that points out that he's the one with the smoking hot girlfriend and his friends aren't so she looks even better than usual. 

"Who?"

"Vince and Eric."

"Want to what?"

She sighs and kisses him. Then she slides her hand into his and tugs him towards the door. "Never mind. We're going to be late."

~*~*~

Vince misses E. It's stupid because E is in the same room as him, sleeping in the next bed, but Jesus Christ he misses him. 

They're broken. Vince is man enough to admit that. They're broken and have been since Cannes but this is a new kind of fucked and he knows that it's his fault. 

It's pretty much always his fault. Mandy, Medellin, Queens - all of them were his fault. He isn't quite sure why he can't just say that to E but that doesn't make it any less true. If he had ever shut his fucking mouth and listened to his best friend, no scratch that, to his co-producer and **manager** then maybe his carefully constructed life wouldn't be in tiny fucking pieces right now. 

Cara woke him up in the end. Naked in her apartment, covered to the waist by the plain cotton sheets on her bed, she'd sighed and kissed his shoulder. "You're not going to fall out of love with him by fucking me. It didn't work when we were kids and it won't now. You know that right?"

Nothing to say to that, really. He came off sounding like a dying fish when he tried to speak. But she'd shaken her head and covered his mouth with her hand. 

"Fuck me one more time for old time sake then go get him okay? I hate it when you're sad, Vince. You're both too good for that."

So he did and then he got his ass back to LA. Only E wasn't there. Sure, he was in the city. His receptionist answered the phones at the Murphy Group. Lloyd saw him at the Coffee Bean. But Vince hit nothing but radio silence every time he tried.

And after everything, he doesn't think E's forgiven him. Not really. He got E back and he's managing Vince again but a lot of the time it feels like E's not even there.

This trip is no better all though god love him, Johnny was trying. He was even willing to ignore the fact that he and E had been roomed together just for the opportunity to be close. Proximity's worked for him before.

But E's not speaking in sentences longer than five words. Have you seen my toothpaste? Which one do you want? Stop messing with the A/C. 

It's killing him not to be able to talk to E.

That's how it starts. He's grasping at straws so when he sees E at the blackjack table, he wanders over and slides into the empty spot beside him.

Vince is on a hot streak he wishes he could transfer to his personal life. 

"Not bad huh?"

E shrugs. "Luck's never been your problem."

Five fucking words. Vince would die for six at that this point which is totally pathetic.

"Maybe. Maybe this next hand it'll go cold. You never know."

"It won't."

They're not alone at the table but everyone is looking at them. He's a familiar face, despite the crash and burning of his last few career attempts. The tension stretched tight between him and E was tight enough that even the dealer was waiting before he dealt the next hand.

"How much do you want to bet?"

"Vince-"

"I'm serious."

"I know. That's the problem."

"I'm betting that I'll lose this time."

"Vince-"

"Look, E, if you're right and I win again then I walk away from the table right now. You don't see me again until we head back to LA because you'll be right about everything as usual."

"What do you want, Mr. Chase?" 

The question comes from a little old lady in a purple flower print dress. She's small and bent and looking at him with watery blue eyes made huge by her thick glasses. 

"What?"

"From the bet, son. If you lose this hand, what do you get?"

Vince looks from her to E to the dealer and back to E. "You talk to me."

"We're talking now."

"No. You're ignoring me. And snapping. If I lose this hand then you have to speak in more than one sentence at a time and actually speak to me. We go back to the Bellagio, and we talk this shit out."

The old woman reaches across the blackjack table and pats E's hand. "You should take it, dear. It's a good bet."

"Who are you?" E blurts out and wow, he's off kilter if he'll be that blunt with a woman whose old enough to be their grandmother.

"Beth Monroe. And you are?" 

He blinks at her, a bit startled. "Eric Murphy."

"You should take it, Eric." She says, patting his hand again and Vince has decided he's going to nominate her for sainthood. She should be canonized and revered from this day on for her humanitarian work with his E.

"And when he tanks himself?" E demands and Vince actually has to bite his tongue from pointing out that _he_ is right fucking here.

"Well then he's not very smart or lucky and you're right, aren't you? And that's a win even if you do lose the bet." She squeezes his arm. "Whatever you decide, do it now. I've got two hundred bucks in five dollar chips burning a hole in the table. Nana needs some new shoes and you're holding up the whole table."

"So you in E?"

"Yeah. Fuck it." He sighs and pushes back from the table, taking his chips with him. 

Vince loses fair and square. The dealer has a ten and he's dealt twelve so he has to take a hit. It's what he would do if their relationship weren't on the line and Vince doesn't cheat. He busts with 22 and has never been happier to lose. 

~*~*~

Eric sits on the edge of the bed and watches Vince pace. He's wearing a hole in the carpet and he's run his hands through his hair so many times since they got back to the room it's a wonder it doesn't all come out.

It's hardly the conversation Vince seems to be craving. And as much as he did promise, he can't bring himself to make the first move. He doesn't have that to give anymore. He left the capacity back in New York. 

He kind of hates himself that he's enjoying watching Vince stress over this. But its his fucking turn. Eric's been stressing himself over Vince for twenty-five years and its about time that Vince got a taste.

He kind of surprises himself with thinking like that. But he hasn't been able to stop since Cannes and after the explosion back home, it's like it's infected him. He wants- 

Well, he wants a lot of things. He wants to stop missing Sloan. He wants Smoke Jumpers to be in production. He wants to travel back in time to when he was fifteen and lay some fucking boundaries. He wants to go back to when they were sixteen and kiss Vince like he should've that time they got drunk on the subway.

But at the least, he wants some fucking recognition that he's bent himself backwards, in half and then folded that over again for Vince's career. He wants for people to stop pointing at him and going "that's why Vinny Chase is a wash up" because damn it, without him - there'd be no Aquaman, there'd be no Queens Boulevard, and there sure as fuck would be no Scorsese directed Great Gatsby. 

So he's content to sit and wait while Vince tries to figure out where to start. He looks like he's desperately searching for the words so Eric's honestly a little surprised when he starts where Eric really wants him to.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" 

"I said I'm sorry. E, Jesus, I'm so fucking sorry."

Eric licks his lips and takes a deep breath because Vince is a good actor. He's not Laurence Olivier or anything but there have been times when he can't tell the difference between Vince-the-character and real-Vince. It always sucks most when he really fucking wants it to be real. Because he's deserved an apology for a year and he wants this to be sincere so he can start letting go already.

Being angry with Vince is exhausting. It's not his natural state and it drains him. But since the fight in Queens he hasn't been able to stop. Its like a car without fucking breaks and he's been feeling for months that the end was only going to come when he crashed into a proverbial brick wall.

"You're sorry?"

"Yeah. I fucked everything up and," he sighs and rubs his forehead. "You didn't do anything wrong. But I let Ari and everyone else blame you anyway." He looks at his feet then into Eric's face with a bout of sincerity that is uncomfortable to be the focus of. "I blamed you."

"Yeah. You did." And it hurt. Every fucking time Vince sided with Ari or worse, fucking Billy Walsh, it fucking hurt. 

"It's `cause you're safe." Vince says. "You're safe, E. If I take shit out on you... It's not okay, but it's okay, you know?"

Eric swallows and shakes his head. Yeah he probably does know but it's been two and a half decades and this isn't the kind of thing either of them say. Not ever. And maybe he needs to hear it this time. 

Vince sits down heavily next to him and Eric thinks that might be so he doesn't have to look at him anymore. He watches Vince's fingers trace the pattern on the comforter for a few seconds before he speaks.

"You love me anyway. You'll always love me anyway. You're unconditional, you know? I knew that so I abused the hell out of it. And that was shitty of me but I was so sure you'd love me anyway."

He says it like he doesn't think Eric loves him anymore. He sounds too much like he did as a kid, lost and scared and Eric reaches out to touch him, his hand landing on Vince's shoulder in a comforting gesture that's as much for him as for Vince. 

"I'm still your best friend, Vince."

"Yeah, well, could've fooled...pretty much everyone on that lately."

"I get to be pissed off, Vince. You screwed me over and I've got the right to be angry for a long fucking time."

"Yeah. You do. I just...I missed us, you know? I love Johnny and Turtle but they're not you. And we're not us."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Yes it does. E," Vince takes his hand and fuck, that's new. 

Well, no. That's not true. Before they got too old to touch, before it stopped being okay to hug your friends, they used to do this. When they were children and it was late and one of them would get scared of the dark at a sleep over, they'd reach out to each other like this. 

They used to be like this all the time and maybe when they let go was when things started to go sideways. Maybe they lost their real foothold when they were nine, not thirty-two. 

"E," he repeats and tugs Eric's hand towards his chest. "We're something else, you know? Us."

Eric's throat is so dry it hurts. "Vince, what're you doing?"

"I'm not sure. How much you wanna bet it's something stupid?"

"What're you talking about?" he asks with willful ignorance. 

If he dares to let himself think about it, he'll know but he can't. He was angry a few minutes ago and now he's paralyzed by the way Vince has shifted their entire relationship.

"I bet you'll let me kiss you now."

"Come on, Vince. Jesus fucking-" Eric doesn't get to finish because Vince makes good on that bet and presses his mouth to Eric's. 

It destroys anything he would've said and leaves him floundering, unsure what to do with his hands, like he'd never kissed anyone before. Vince's face is rough from stubble and he reaches out with the hand not holding Eric's to touch the side o f his neck and E's mind is racing with how fucked up it is that this is as good as he'd thought it would be and what the fuck this is going to do to them.

"So fucking stupid," Eric breathes. They're grown ass men and fucking around with Vince isn't the kind of thing that would say in Vegas. It would follow them home and fuck them up more than they already were. "Vince stop it."

Vince's lips are wet and his eyes are wide, pupils huge against pale blue. 

"You're still mad."

"You shoving your tongue in my mouth isn't going to stop me being mad. Just, for god's sake, Vince, tell me you haven't done this with anyone else."

"I haven't." Vince snaps, finally letting go. "I'm not a fag, E. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Except for your jumping me."

"I bet it'd be stupid."

Eric rolled his eyes. "Well you won."

Vince is looking at him again with the sad eyes and the lost puppy lip and Christ, will he ever grow up? Ever? It feels like two steps forward, three leaps back with Vince sometimes. "I bet that you'd let me kiss you too."

Eric pinches the bridge of his nose. "You surprised me."

"I still won the bet, twice. You're not a welcher are you?"

He can feel a muscle in his jaw twitch. He doesn't know why Vince is resorting to this petty, childish crap but its not cute and its not funny and worst of all, its not something he can get out of. He and Vince both grew up on the principle than you don't cop out on a bet - not ever. It's a matter of honor. 

"I never took either bet Vince."

Vince raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "Tell me what will fix us."

"Is that what you think you've won?"

"Yeah. But I think you want to tell me so we can stop this because you miss me too. If you don't, then I don't know you as well as I thought."

Eric sighs and leans back onto his elbows. "I do."

"Then tell me what to do." Vince asks. He's asked that so many times over the years. Eric wonders if Vince would actually listen this time. And on the off chance that he would, he wishes he had something constructive to suggest.

"I don't know."

"You have to."

"No," Eric sighs. " I don't."

Life would be easier if Eric knew what Vince could do to make everything instantly okay again. But he cant keep telling Vince what to do and he doesn't think there is anything that Vince can do beyond what he's already done anyway. 

"So, nothing then. There's nothing that'll make this better."

"Not that I can think of."

"Fine. Fuck you, E," Vince bites out, hurt turning into a bitterness that is the last thing Eric thinks he deserves.

The anger hits him like a fist. It's hot and familiar and makes the flesh under his skin itch. Anger like this has led him to throw punches at men twice his size and it takes everything in him not to pop Vince one good right in his pretty mouth, a mouth he knows the taste of from the inside out. 

"No, fuck you. The world doesn't revolve around you and your bullshit and what you want right now. **My** world doesn't revolve around you."

"Yes it does."

Eric has every intention of beating the fuck out of Vince when he lunges forward. It's been coming since they got back from Italy and he needs to tear Vince apart the same way he needed to smack Billy down in Barney's.

But his hands land on Vince and instead of punching him, he's pulling at his shirt and kissing him with all the anger and impatience and frustration he's been carrying around with him for the last five fucking years. 

"Selfish prick," He breaths into Vince's mouth.

"Stubborn son of a bitch," Vince shoots back. 

They're hurting each other they're holding each other's limbs so tight, pulling at each other so roughly. Teeth bite and fingernails dig and it's the most honest they've been with each other in what feels like years and Eric isn't surprised at all when Vince fights him for dominance.

"Bet you'll let me fuck you," Eric hisses, throwing Vince's taunts in his face. 

He's never been with a man before but the mechanics aren't new, Sloan and Kristen were both open minded women, and Jesus does he want to fuck Vince now. He wants to fuck Vince face down through the mattress, holding him - by the neck, so he can get some of himself back from inside him. There's some hissing ugly part of him? that promises him that he'll get to be his own person, finally, if he can do this.

Vince is bigger than him but Eric is faster and he wants it more which is how he ends up with his arms threaded behind Vince's shoulders, Vince's arms trapped behind his back while Eric presses his knees firmly into Vince's lower back.

"Bet you want this," he says, leaning down to bite the shell of Vince's ear. 

Vince's first response is to moan beneath Eric and go limp. Then he turns his head and Eric is kissing him again. His mouth is pliant now, wet and welcoming even though the rest of him is still tense. 

"Yeah," Vince pants when Eric breaks away and fuck but winning is satisfying. He's starting to understand Ari a little better - how victory can be intoxicating. He's not addicted to it the way some industry people seem to be but through the fog of lust and fury, he can see how it happens. 

"Stay still for me," Eric says and then he lets go. He doesn't want to take it anymore. He wants Vince to give it to him like Eric has been giving himself to Vince for the last twenty years. "If you want this, stay still for me."

And Vince doesn't do more than twitch a few muscles while Eric digs out the lube and condoms he knows Vince always has in the depths of his bags. 

Vince is still wearing everything but his shoes and socks but it's beautiful to see him like that, voluntarily frozen - for him. It's a step and Eric didn't even know it would be and something tight and ugly in him loosens and fades a little but not enough to stop.

"Are you sorry yet?" He asks as he straddles Vince's back. He bites through the fabric of Vince's shirt on his shoulder and feels a burning satisfaction when Vince gasps and jerks away on reflex.

"Vince, how sorry are you?" he asks again, biting farther up, closer to the junction of shoulder and throat. His teeth hit skin and cloth and Vince groans.

"Sorry. E, I'm fucking sorry."

Higher this time, where it'll show above his clothes - where E can see it and think about this, the way Vince sounds like his whole world centers around getting Eric's forgiveness. He doesn't draw blood but his teeth level small deep pits and the skin underneath speckles red and purple.

"Promise me you'll stop acting like this."

"I promise."

He lays across Vince's back, the heat of Vince's skin seeping through the fabric of their shirts. He fists a hand in dark curls and pulls Vince's head back so that he doesn't have to strain to speak into his ear. 

"You're not going to treat me like this anymore, Vince. I'm not going to fucking take it, you hear me?"

"Yes."

He pulls farther, watching Vince's neck arch and his eyes squeeze shut. 

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I hear you. I won't do it anymore, E. I swear."

"I love you," he says and wow, that wasn't what he'd meant to say. But there it is, coated in rage but honest and Vince's eyes snap open, wide and shocked. Yeah, Eric thinks, welcome to the club. Plenty of shock to go around. 

"E?"

"I love you and I deserve better from you. I deserve the fucking best from you for how much I'm stuck loving you." 

"I-"

He doesn't let Vince finish. He doesn't want to hear excuses. He just wants to fuck him, here on this mediocre bed in a hotel in the seediest city on earth. So he kisses him and tugs at Vince's khakis until they come free. 

"E, please."

Eric doesn't stop to look or feel or fondle beyond a vague grope. That's not what this about and it's not why he's doing it. Vince is bucking against him, raising his hips grinding backwards like he's done this a thousand times before. Eric doesn't really know what Vince's really done and with who but he's gagging for E now. 

It takes all of E's effort to get his fly open and his dick out. His hands are shaking, though why he's not exactly sure because he's feeling too fucking much right now. But he manages to get a condom on and the lube open and Vince moans like a whore when Eric's slick soaked fingers carefully but not gently, push into him. 

Vince's whole body twitches and he reaches back with a clawing hand and grabs at Eric's shirt. His hands yank and Eric can feel seems tearing but Vince is begging please, please, E, please, please, please fuck, E please. 

That's a good sign if Eric ever heard one so he pulls his fingers out and pushes in, again careful but not soft or slow. Vince chokes out his name, his whole name, and there's a ripping sound and seam at the shoulder of Eric's button down comes apart. Vince's hand scrambles for better purchase, his fingernails digging into the back of Eric's neck now as Eric fucks him. 

He reaches around with one hand and turns Vince's face back towards him. His eyes are half shut and his lips are parted and panting with every thrust of Eric's hips but he twists himself, looking for Eric's mouth.

Eric feels that tightness in him release more as he leans forward to end Vince's searching, biting on his lower lip and sliding his tongue into Vince's mouth until they're both struggling to breathe. 

"Eric," Vince begs and goddamn he really likes that. Vince never calls him that in the real world and maybe that's what he's so turned on by- that this is so different from reality where, Vince doesn't listen and takes him for granted and treats him like crap.

Right now he's Vince's whole world. The push and pull of his dick and his hands and his lips and his tongue control how fast Vince **breathes**. Eric likes it that way. 

"I've given you everything I fucking have Vince," he says into Vince's ear, using his anger as an anchor so he can get deeper, go harder, and still think. 

Vince nods like a bobble-head toy, turned and arched and straining for him to see. It's the best he's ever looked to Eric.

"Is it enough now?"

"Yes. Too much, E. Everything. I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Eric says.

Then he pulls his knees up under him a little so that he can move better, faster and slides his free hand under Vince, wrapping his hand around Vince's dick. It's hot and alien and hard in his fist and despite himself and everything he's ever really thought he was, he revels in it because Vince has never looked or sounded more like his.

Vince's teeth are drawing blood from his lower lip. Eric moves his hand quickly back and forth pulling Vince's hips up and when the angle changes, so does Vince.

Babble pours from his mouth that stuns Eric because he's heard Vince fucking enough times over the years - sometimes in the same room sometimes through the walls, but Vince's never been a talker. Now it seems like he can't stop. 

"Too much. It's too much, E, God, please. Please. I fucking- sorry. Sorry, E, sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry, please. Too fucking much, please. E fucking please, I'm sorry. "

"I bet you are," Eric says and Vince makes a noise that's half laugh half sob and he's coming. His whole body spasms and Eric can feel him wet and hot on his fingers and tight and rippling around his dick. 

He rides out Vince's orgasm until he's a limp Vince-rug lying beneath him, pliant and open and Eric's still inside him, still hard and still angry. It sits in his chest, tense and waiting until Vince's hand on his neck, the fingers that left small, indented crescents just below his hairline, tugs him down gently.

"My turn." Vince says and Eric's not sure exactly what he means because Vince isn't moving or doing anything but running his fingers through the hair at the nape of Eric's neck. 

"What?"

He kisses the side of Eric's face next to his ear then rests his head back down on the mattress. "To give everything I have."

His words hit Eric like a punch and he can't stop himself. He tries but he just can't and he fucks Vince hard and fast enough to slam the bed into the wall. His face is pressed into the comforter beside Vince's and Vince's nose rubs against the side of Eric's cheek. Eric comes hard and ugly, his teeth digging another mark into Vince's pale neck, his fist tugging cruelly back on Vince's hair.

It leaves him feeling hollow and raw and exhausted like he cant ever remember being in his whole life. His hand is still in Vince's curls, calm now, tangled but soft. And his chest feels empty. 

"We're gonna get to okay, Vince," he says and beneath him, it's like Vince is melting. He kisses the last bite, where he must have hurt him because he nearly broke the skin.

"Would you lay money on that?"Vince asks, disturbingly conversational considering the marks Eric had left on him, the things Eric had just done to him.

Eric laugh. God, that feels better than the sex, to be able to laugh with Vince again. Something's shifted back to where it's supposed to be with him and Vince. It's not right yet but he can see getting there now when he couldn't before. 

"Yeah. I'd bet the house."

(end) 

 


End file.
